


Fine

by blancafic



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Season/Series 06 Speculation, post 5x22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 01:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15595167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancafic/pseuds/blancafic
Summary: As the search for Fitz continues without much progress, everyone keeps asking Jemma how she's doing. She gives the same response every time.





	Fine

"I'm fine," Jemma tells Daisy as they board the Zephyr and head to space.

Daisy reassures her that they'll find him, whatever it takes, and to Jemma's surprise it sounds like she means it. Their relationship isn't what it was, back when they supported each other and always knew they were on the same side. Maybe it will never be like that again. Or maybe it will just take time. She sees the way Daisy and the others watch her with wary eyes, as if she's some fragile thing that might fall apart at any moment. Like they're just waiting for it to happen so they can pick up the pieces and move on. The scars from their last fight are still fresh and no one wants to talk about it, least of all Jemma. It makes it hard to feel close to anyone. For now, the search for Fitz has given them a common goal and that's enough. She might be sad about the distance if she could allow herself to feel sadness, or anything at all.

"I'm fine," she tells Mack when their second lead doesn't pan out.

And the third. And the fourth. He's been astonishingly patient with her, and with this mostly fruitless search as they hit wall after wall. She suspects it's because he feels some measure of guilt about the things he said to Fitz, and the things he never got to say. She reads the heavy burden of leadership in the dark circles under his eyes and the slump of his broad shoulders. If Coulson and May were here there'd be group therapy in the form of team briefings and stern looks and hard truths to keep them all from spinning out, but Director Mackenzie is still finding his own style. Hope is usually his thing, but it's hard to maintain in the face of constant disappointment. She's not sure how long he'll be able to justify the time and effort they're putting into this mission. She used to have hope too, but that's a luxury she can't allow herself anymore. It's not that she's given up. She will never, _ever_ give up. She just keeps her head down and focuses on one obstacle at a time.

"I'm fine," she tells Elena during a routine checkup in the Zephyr's lab.

Never mind that Jemma is the one who's supposed to be monitoring Elena's mental and physical health, not the other way around. Next to her, and it's a distant second, Elena is probably the one who's most anxious to get Fitz back. Her mechanical arms are in dire need of calibration after months of constant use. Not only are they hindering her inhuman abilities, they're also prone to random, painful energy surges. Mack does his best to make provisional adjustments, and Jemma, as the last surviving native speaker of the Fitzsimmons language, helps to interpret the designs where she can. The tech is way beyond her, though. It occurs to her just how far-reaching Fitz's genius was ( _is_ ) and how many lives he touched through his inventions. If he were here, he'd remind her that the consequences were bad just as often as they were good. But he's not, so she doesn't have to think it. Instead, she thinks about how it was his design that made this mission possible, that he literally engineered his own rescue. Elena takes her hand, and though Jemma knows it's intended as a comforting gesture, she can only focus on the contrast of the cold, hard metal against her warm skin.

“I’m fine,” she tells Davis and Piper and anyone else who asks how she’s doing, because that’s what they want to hear.

The days seem to drag on and yet fly by simultaneously. It's a contradiction, and not at all scientific, but that's just how she perceives it. Time gets away from her. There are samples to test and chemical compounds to create and patients to see. Because, even though she's not a medical doctor, she's still the closest thing they have to one on this team. Plus, she's been meaning to reorganize the lab. She can't seem to find a system that doesn't eventually break down, so she just keeps rearranging the supplies on the shelves in the hope that something will stick. She's just finished moving the last few specimen containers from one drawer to another when Mack walks in. By the stony set of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze she can tell it's either very good news or very bad news.

The news is very, very good.

It turns out, all they needed was a map. And one clever, time-tossed grandson to deliver it. As soon as he joins them aboard the Zephyr, he rushes to her and envelops her in a fond, familial hug. She's glad enough to see him, but unable to properly return his embrace. He notices, asking if she's okay.

"I'm fine," she tells Deke.

Enoch's ship is just where the map indicated it would be. Davis pulls the Zephyr up underneath it and it locks on. She watches the process from the cockpit. The rest of them watch her. Mack boards first, alone, and returns having confirmed it is safe. Fitz is safe. Alive. Frozen. Enoch enters a sequence on the control pad and says it will be a few hours before he regains consciousness. She doesn't ask to be left alone with him while he wakes. They leave her alone with him anyway.

The chamber does its work. She watches Fitz through the window looking for signs of life. She watches for what must be hours, though she doesn't keep track (or do anything that would require tearing her eyes from his face). She thought it would happen gradually, like waking from normal sleep, but it happens all at once. His eyes pop open and his lungs gasp for air and he looks right at her. It's positively miraculous. She thinks she might even believe in miracles now.

"Jemma," he says, immediately finding her face with his wide eyes. His voice is muffled by the chamber, but her heart hears him with crystal clarity. She'll never get over the way he can pour so many feelings into two familiar syllables.

She can barely breathe, but she manages to get out two syllables of her own: "Hi Fitz."

She opens the lid and he pushes himself up to a sitting position. It isn't until he wraps his arms around her, until her head is against his chest and she can hear his heartbeat, strong and steady and _right here_ , that she finally comes undone. He's home and she's home and the missing pieces of her begin to fall back into place. His skin is still cool to the touch, but it's just what she needs to soothe her burned-out soul. He runs his wondrous hands through her hair, liquefying her insides with every stroke. She's no longer made of muscles and ligaments and bones, but emotions and fragments of memories and something resembling the consistency of jelly. She's leaking everywhere. She can't stop, which makes him hold her tighter, which only makes her cry harder. It's as if she's been standing on the precipice of a dark abyss for all this time and now she can finally let herself tumble over the edge, knowing he'll be there at the bottom to catch her. Her knees finally give way and she crumples to the floor, holding onto him as long as she can. He follows, reaching for her, finding her as soon as they're level again. She must sound more like an animal than a human being, but the sobs and wails come from her throat unbidden.

"Jemma? Jemma, are you all right?" he asks, worry crinkling the edges of his voice, so long unused.

"I'm fine," she tells Fitz, sniffling as her salty, tear-stained lips curl up into a smile that strains her atrophied muscles.

This time, it's actually true.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adore my beta LibbyWeasly and would never do anything to risk her dying of FEELS. (And if she tries to tell you otherwise, do not believe her.)


End file.
